


Nervous, Too

by dysonrules



Series: Nervous Trilogy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules





	Nervous, Too

Draco felt Potter's body tremble and he smiled wickedly at the heady sense of power. The other Death Eaters had tortured Potter throughout the night, but it had been Draco who had brought the proud Gryffindor low. All it had taken was a few soft touches; the gentle caress of hands, lips, and tongue.

Draco was willing to wager Potter hated him right now more than he ever had before. And Draco wasn't nearly finished. He thrust his hips forward again, pressing his erection against Potter's. Potter was nude, chained to a large pillar in the dungeon of an abandoned Scottish castle. Draco was fully clothed, but so turned on it was all he could do not to tear his own clothing off in order to feel every inch of Potter's flesh against his own.

He pressed his lips against Potter's neck and twisted his fingers into Potter's thick black hair. Draco had already gained one reluctant admission from Potter. Now he sought another.

"Tell me you want me, Potter," Draco whispered and drew his tongue along the line of Potter's throat from collarbone to ear. Potter shuddered.

"No," he said defiantly. Draco smiled gently and teased Potter's earlobe with his teeth. He detached one hand from Potter's hair and slipped it down over the lean body, past shoulder, chest, and abdomen. Draco gripped Potter's cock and felt more than heard a cry nearly escape from the Gryffindor—stifled before it could betray him.

"It's already obvious, Potter," Draco said softly as his thumb stroked the hard shaft and glided gently over the smooth head. "Just admit it."

"No," Potter breathed, a tortured moan.

Draco tsked. "So stubborn." His hand stroked the velveteen smoothness. "Tell me."

Potter gasped so harshly it was nearly a sob. "I want you," he whispered hoarsely.

Draco froze. He'd expected the thrill of victory that accompanied the words; he had not expected the explosive rush of desire that punched through him like a sword thrust. He couldn't breathe for a moment.

Suddenly, it was no longer a game.

Draco released Potter and stepped back, shaken. Potter's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were tightly closed. His wrists twisted in the chains in a repetitive motion that was probably unconscious; a desperate need to be free. Draco noted with horror that the movement had drawn blood.

"Don't," Draco said quietly and green eyes snapped open to glare at him. Potter's lips twisted in a sneer when he saw what had drawn Draco's attention.

"The sight of blood bothers you, Malfoy? Ironic, considering your twisted mind games. You know goddamn well they cut deeper than these fucking iron chains." Potter jerked angrily at the bonds again and a smear of red appeared beneath the shackles.

Draco flushed, an odd combination of anger and shame. He had come here with the intention of breaking the mighty Potter—why the hell should he regret his success? Frankly, Potter's weakness seemed to have been temporary. He was in a fine Gryffindor rage, now.

"Why don't you get the hell out of here, Malfoy? Go upstairs and join your other soulless cohorts to wait for your great master to return. I'm sure he'll grant you front row seats for the entertainment." Potter rattled his chains once more. "And you'd better prepare for a hell of a lot more than this little display of blood, because I doubt Voldemort plans to take me out with a simple _Avada Kedavra_ after what I've done lately."

Draco knew it was true. He knew everything Potter had said was true, because the Veritaserum still coursed through Potter's veins. Draco gnawed on a nail for a moment, thinking. The thought of Potter's imminent demise suddenly disturbed him. Potter had been such a constant presence in his life… what would he do for a nemesis once Potter was gone?

He looked at Potter speculatively. God, the Gryffindor was annoying. He had been a bloody thorn in Draco's side since boyhood. Even now, naked, chained, and humiliated, Potter still exuded that fucking superior attitude that always made Draco want to punch him. Potter's green eyes fairly glowed with rage beneath his unruly thatch of dark hair. That damned messy mop of hair. Draco wanted to put his hands in it again. The texture was amazing, nearly as soft as Draco's, but so much thicker, and with a tantalizing hint of curl at the nape of his neck.

Draco cursed inwardly. Regardless of how much Draco hated the Gryffindor, Potter was delightfully fuckable and it would be such a bloody waste. The very idea of that Quidditch-honed body crushed and broken because of the insane ideology of an undead madman… Draco found himself pacing. Potter's head was tipped back to rest against the pillar once more and he watched Draco through narrowed eyes.

Draco snarled and stepped back to Potter. Draco pressed himself against him, amused at the way Potter's body stiffened as the breath caught in his throat. Oh, he really, _really_ hated Draco touching him. Draco grinned and gave in to the urge to feel Potter's black hair again. He twisted his hands into it in a ruthless caress and met Potter's gaze levelly.

"I'm not ready for you to die just yet, Potter," Draco admitted. Potter said nothing. Draco's thumbs felt the soft patches of flesh behind Potter's ears and brushed over them gently. "It's just not right, you see. Because you are mine, Potter, not his. I made you what you are. Not him. _Me_. I taught you to fly. I gave you the drive to always be better than me. I kept you on your toes. I was there to balk you at every turn and scheme behind your back. Not Voldemort with his foolish convoluted plots and ridiculous machinations. I watched you and thwarted you and lived every moment in your shadow. I made you wary and distrustful. I made you strong enough to stand here and face death on your own two feet and spit in the eye of the one that pretends to own you. By hell, he does not have that right, because I am the one that has lived for you and you alone, Potter. You are _mine_ and I am not about to let you go."

Potter's eyes had grown wide and baffled as Draco had spoken.

"What do you mean?" Potter asked.

"I mean to get you out of here. But only with a few conditions."

Potter's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Draco felt a strange upsurge of pride. Yes, Draco had taught him well never to trust a Slytherin. "My options seem rather limited at the moment," Potter admitted. "What conditions?"

"One; you do exactly as I tell you with no arguments whatsoever. If we are to get out of this alive, it will take precise coordination and impeccable planning. Slytherin planning," Draco stated.

"Agreed," Potter said mildly.

"Two; you swear an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to me. You swear never to harm me or allow me to come to harm if it is in your power to prevent it."

Potter looked stunned, as well he should. Draco was asking a lot. Hell, he was asking _everything_. Potter just didn't know it yet.

"Who will be the Binder?" Potter asked.

"I will take your word for it, for now. We'll make it official later." Draco knew he could take Gryffindor honor to the bank and exchange it for gold. Potter swallowed.

"I so swear."

Draco smiled. "And finally, you will allow me to make love to you before you leave this castle." Potter's stricken expression made it clear that this condition trumped all the others, as far as Potter was concerned. Draco nearly laughed aloud. The little idiot should have been far more concerned about the vow he had just made than any act of sexual congress.

"Why?" Potter asked in a horrified tone.

"Let's call it my way of sealing the deal," Draco said lightly. _Marking my property_ , he added to himself. "Besides, you already admitted to wanting me, so I doubt you'll find the experience as bad as all that. And, as you pointed out, you are desperately low on options."

"You are inexplicably evil."

"Yes, yes, and your hatred of me knows no bounds," Draco drawled in a bored tone. "What's it to be?"

"God, I feel like I'm selling my soul to the devil."

Draco grinned wickedly. "Thanks, Potter, that's very flattering. Now say, 'I promise.'"

"I promise," Potter repeated with a defeated groan. Draco felt like he'd just dug up buried treasure.

Draco stepped back and pulled his wand from a pocket. He spelled open the shackles on Potter's wrists and was surprised when He toppled forward; Draco barely caught him in time.

"You might have unfastened my ankles, first," Potter suggested belatedly. Draco shifted his grip on Potter and quickly released the lower chains. Potter was nearly a dead weight.

"My arms… don't seem to be working," Potter said. "And I can't feel my hands."

Not surprising, considering they had been bound over his head the entire night. Draco lowered him to the ground. "Stay here. I'll see if they left your things lying about."

A large, ugly table rested at the edge of the room and a leather pack sat atop that. The contents had been rummaged through haphazardly, but seemed mostly to consist of clothing and foodstuffs. One item caught Draco's eye immediately and he groaned.

"I'm almost ashamed to call myself a Death Eater," he mumbled and snatched the invisibility cloak out of the pack. Crabbe or Goyle had searched the pack earlier and reported nothing of value, obviously not recognizing the cloak as anything special. What an incredible spot of luck for Draco, though. Potter's glasses sat on the table. Potter's wand, of course, had been taken and now rested in the possession of Lucius Malfoy.

Potter was on his feet and trying to shake feeling back into his hands.

"Lucky for us some of my 'soulless cohorts' are imbeciles," Draco said. He tucked Potter's glasses onto his head and felt a flash of relief when the handsome visage was marred once more by the dark frames. Not that the spectacles really made much difference. He handed Potter a pair of breeches, which Potter fumbled to put on until Draco helped him with an exasperated sigh, although he inwardly enjoyed Potter's blush as Draco made sure Potter's bits were properly tucked away before zipping the trousers.

He grabbed one of Potter's hands and rubbed the cold appendage vigorously before doing the same to the other.

"All right, time is against us," Draco said briskly. "No telling how long they'll leave me down here. Luckily, Father and I are the only early risers and I don't think he'll make an effort to check on me."

Draco slung the invisibility cloak over both of them. It barely covered them and left their legs exposed nearly to the knees. Draco quickly took off his boots and carried them.

"If we see anyone, crouch down and pray the bloody thing conceals us completely." With that, Draco put an arm around Potter's bare waist and steered him to the door. The dark corridor and stairwell were deserted, as was the room at the top of the stairs.

The tricky part was getting past the large archway that led to the kitchen—the one room that was nearly always occupied. Draco and Potter crept forward until Draco could peer into the room. A large figure was seated at the huge butcher-block table in the center of the room, thankfully with his back to them. Avery.

Draco rushed Potter silently past the doorway, glad he had removed his boots. Potter's bare feet made no sound. A short hallway led to the old servants' quarters, where Draco's temporary bedroom stood. The room was tiny and humble, but the grander rooms upstairs had been taken by the other Death Eaters in residence. Draco would rather live in squalor than share a room.

After the door shut behind them, Draco slumped against it in relief. Potter quickly extracted himself from the cloak. Draco sealed the door with a locking spell and then cast a Silencing Charm.

"Now for the fun part," Draco said dryly and smiled when Potter's green eyes flew to the bed with a distinctly un-Gryffindor-like expression of stark terror.

"I meant fun for you," Draco clarified. "I want you to _Obliviate_ my memory."

"What?" Potter asked in astonishment.

"Not permanently, of course." Draco outlined his plan and then took a massively deep breath, realizing what could possibly be the stupidest act of his life lay before him. He handed Harry Potter his wand.

Potter looked at the long, black bit of hawthorn and the muscles in his jaw worked soundlessly. It would be so easy, Draco knew. _Hex me and fly, Potter_ , he thought. _Fuck the vow and forget me. Just get out_.

Potter sat down on the bed. "Better get comfortable. This could take a while."

Draco suppressed a sigh of relief and joined Potter. The first hurdle had been crossed. Now it remained to be seen if Potter would hold back when given access to Draco's memories and mind. Potter's hand touched Draco's temple almost gently.

"All right… you will slip into a light trance…"

Potter's voice droned on and Draco's awareness drained away.

~*~

Draco returned to alertness to find himself lying on the bed with Potter's face hovering over him. Draco sat up groggily and flicked back through his memories of the morning. Everything seemed intact.

"I don't feel any different. And I remember everything." Draco's tone was faintly accusatory.

"I put in a keyword trigger," Potter explained. He conjured a quill and a scrap of paper, using Draco's wand with casual familiarity. He scrawled a word and handed it to Draco. A Quidditch term. _Blatch_. "I doubt that will come up in casual Death Eater conversation. The block will be cancelled when you see my face—just in case you decide to hex me before I can get a word out. Do you want to test it?"

"How long did this take?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Draco shook his head and stood. "No time. I need to get back. We're lucky no one has sounded the alarm yet. Lie on the bed and I'll cover you with the cloak. You can rest while I'm gone."

Potter complied, not using the pillow to avoid leaving an obvious dip, and Draco draped the cloak over him.

"Get some sleep. There's no telling how long this will take."

As an added precaution, he cast a Full-body Bind on Potter, just in case he decided to slip out once Draco had gone. And to prevent him thrashing in his sleep and dislodging the cloak.

Now for the hard part. Draco crept down the hall and past the kitchen soundlessly, thankful for the natural grace that allowed him to move quietly.

He stood in the dungeon before the now-empty pillar and put his boots on quickly. After taking a steadying breath and reminding himself that it was completely worth the bother to have Harry Potter as his willing slave, Draco cast a _Stupefy_ at the pillar and shouted Potter's trigger word. The red beam bounced off the marble and hit him full on.

~*~

Someone was tapping his cheeks. Draco swatted them away in annoyance.

"Draco, wake up!" It was Goyle's voice. Draco opened his eyes reluctantly. Fuck, he had a headache. And what the hell was he doing on the floor? He sat up.

"Potter's gone!" Goyle said and Draco suddenly remembered where he was. In the dungeon, torturing Potter. He got to his feet angrily and looked at the empty chains on the pillar. He remembered casting a Cruciatus Curse at Potter… but nothing else.

"What hit me?" he asked.

"I don't know. Stunner, most like. Was it Potter?"

Draco shook his head. "It couldn't have been. He was chained and I was _Crucioing_ him." Draco spied his wand on the ground and snatched it up, somewhat surprised that Potter had not taken it. "It must have been the Order. How did they find him?"

"Bugger that; how did they get in and out? Fuck, your father is going to have my bloody head."

" _Yours_? I was the one in here tormenting Potter, and I didn't see _anything_."

"And his wrath won't be nothing to the Dark Lord's."

Draco and Goyle looked at each other in mutual trepidation.

"No help for it. I'll go and inform my father," Draco said with a sigh. Goyle looked relieved.

~*~

Draco returned to his room and leant against the door when it shut behind him. His headache had grown until it felt like a Nundu was gnawing on his skull. No one had the ability to verbally eviscerate like Lucius Malfoy. And all without raising his voice above a sibilant whisper. Draco hoped to inherit that talent one day.

Right now, he just wanted to lie down and stare at the ceiling in order to convince himself that Potter's disappearance was not his fault. And hope to hell he could convince the Dark Lord of that when he arrived.

Draco pushed himself away from the door and threw himself on the bed before leaping up with an oath. _What the hell?_ He reached out a tentative hand and encountered a solid form. An _invisible_ solid form. Draco's fingers snagged in the soft material beneath his hand; he dragged it off in one smooth motion.

Draco stared in utter astonishment at the body revealed. Jean-clad, shirtless, black hair… God, it was Harry Potter! As soon as his shocked gaze met the sleeping visage, the controls on his memory melted away.

 _Bloody hell…_ Draco sank down on the bed and assimilated the lost memories. Damn, Potter had done an incredible job. For being a fairly oblivious student in school, he had obviously applied himself once out of it.

Draco touched Potter with the end of his wand to cancel the Full-body Bind, but Potter did not stir; he must have been exhausted. Draco threw the cloak back over the somnolent hero and went down the hall to fetch something to eat. He wasn't hungry, but figured Potter would be when he awoke. The kitchen was empty, as the Death Eaters were out searching the castle from top to bottom to try and determine how the Golden Boy had slipped through their fingers. Draco had been just as angry and indignant as the others, and he felt slightly disjointed now that the truth had returned to him. He rather felt like two people in the same body.

Luckily, the angry portion was completely mollified by the glee induced at the thought of the Boy Wonder being in Draco's eternal debt. It was worth any number of verbal thrashings from Lucius Malfoy.

Truth be known, his father would most likely burst with pride if he discovered Draco's underhanded dealings. Hadn't the bastard been teaching him how to be manipulative since he could walk?

Draco double-sealed the door and set the tray of food on the bedside table before removing his shirt and climbing into bed next to Potter. The bed was not large; both of them barely fit on it together. He raked back the cloak to expose Potter's bare chest. Unwittingly, he reached out and touched the soft strands of hair beneath the hollow of Potter's throat. Potter sighed in his sleep and flung a hand out. His fingers trailed absently over Draco's midriff and came to a rest with his fingertips still touching Draco's abdomen. Draco wondered why it was suddenly hard to breathe.

He let his hand drop and it curled up on Potter's bicep. Draco lay still and watched the Savior of the Wizarding World sleep until his eyelids grew heavy and slipped closed.

~*~

A loud hammering on the door woke them both. Draco's eyes snapped open and met the startled green eyes of Potter, whose face was so close to Draco's that they shared the same air.

"Draco!" a voice bellowed beyond the portal.

He sat up quickly. "I'm up, Goyle!"

"The Dark Lord is here. He… requests your presence."

"I'll be right out."

Draco snapped his gaze back to Potter with a wry grin. "Your Memory Charm passed my father's test… let's see if it can withstand Voldemort's Legilimency."

Potter sat up. "I'll need to adjust your last few memories."

Draco wordlessly handed Potter the wand and tried to relax. Time was of the essence. One did not keep the Dark Lord waiting. Potter's hand cupped the side of Draco's face and his long fingers were warm against his throat. Potter cast quickly, murmuring softly, and Draco smiled languidly when Potter's hand lingered against his face as he finished.

Potter snatched his hand away and Draco noted with amusement that a blush tinted the Gryffindor's cheeks. Potter cleared his throat.

"Good luck."

"That's very sweet, Potter," Draco drawled.

Potter scowled. "It's self-preservation. If the Charm doesn't work, I'm dead. And so are you."

"Let's hope your Gryffindor luck holds out, then, Chosen One," Draco said as he tugged his shirt on and buttoned it. "Give me your word that you'll stay here until I get back and I won't immobilize you."

"You have my word," Potter said, though his eyes flashed dangerously. Draco was having a great time extracting promises from Potter. He leaned forward impulsively and pressed a chaste kiss on Potter's shocked lips.

"I'll be back," he said ominously and went out. He locked the door behind him, took a steadying breath, and whispered the word to purge his memory.

~*~

Voldemort's snakelike eyes bored into his and Draco could practically feel intrusive tendrils slithering into his mind, seeking for untruth and alert for deception.

"Do you know how Harry Potter escaped from under your nose, Draco?" Voldemort hissed. Draco swallowed, heartily glad that he had been knocked out during Potter's rescue; though he did wish he could have gotten off a curse or two, or at least seen who had taken Potter.

"No, but he could not have done it alone."

"Indeed. And you saw no one?" The pressure on Draco's mind was a tangible force.

"Only Potter. And he was chained."

"Who do you suppose released him?"

"No idea."

"You were conveniently Stunned," Voldemort said.

Draco felt a surge of anger. "Convenient," he snapped. "Interesting choice of words."

"It seems reasonable that one of the Death Eaters released Potter. The Order of the Phoenix knows nothing of subtlety. I believe we have a traitor in our midst, Draco, and I mean to stamp him out."

Draco swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. Voldemort was constantly alert for betrayal, the price of maintaining order through fear.

"Who do you suppose has the most to gain by keeping Potter alive, Draco?" Voldemort asked conversationally.

 _Everyone_? Draco thought immediately and mentally cringed. He fought for control and prayed the Dark Lord had not picked the sarcastic notion from his mind.

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Really? Offhand, I would say your father."

Draco's brow shot up in surprise. "Father?"

The corpselike hand reached up and patted Draco's cheek. It was so cold to the touch it nearly burned. The gesture was curiously reminiscent of something that fluttered against Draco's memory like a whisper.

"You seem genuinely shocked, Draco. Lucky you. If your father plots against me, he has wisely kept the knowledge from you, yes?"

"My father is loyal!" Draco said hotly.

Voldemort patted his cheek once more and stepped away, seemingly satisfied. "Very well, Draco, you may go."

Thus dismissed, Draco wasted no time departing the sepulcher presence. He stopped in the Great Hall, where the other Death Eaters had gathered tensely. Lucius looked at him expressionlessly. Draco stood close to his father and noted wryly, and not for the first time, that Lucius was still slightly taller and probably always would be.

"He thinks you betray him," Draco said.

"He thinks we all betray him," Lucius drawled. "He requires a sacrifice."

"Well, he'd better look elsewhere," Draco snapped. "Damn it, if only I had seen who took Potter…"

"Patience, Draco. If any blame is to fall, it will be on my head for not adequately guarding the Gryffindor hero."

Draco paled and Lucius allowed the ghost of a smile to touch his lips.

"Fear not. He still needs me. Even he would not destroy me in a fit of rage. Who, then, would lead this rabble? Avery? Nott?"

Draco snorted a laugh, disguising his relief, although he did not quite share his father's confidence in the Dark Lord's ability to rationalize. He sighed.

"I'm going back to my room until he leaves," Draco said. "It tires me to watch the others grovel."

Lucius nodded curtly and moved toward Crabbe as Draco departed.

Draco stopped at the kitchen to collect a tray of food and a bottle of wine. When he reached the door to his room, he was surprised to find he'd locked it. What did he have to hide? Even his favorite silver comb had been left at Malfoy Manor.

He shifted the tray and used his wand to unlock it before pushing the door open. He took four steps across the small room and slid the wooden tray onto the table… right next to another wooden tray that held an empty plate and teacup. A tray that Draco had no recollection of bringing in.

He snatched his wand and whirled, still gripping the bottle in his left hand. His eyes scanned the room warily, searching for movement beneath or behind the bed. There was really nowhere in the small room to hide.

Draco relaxed minutely and lowered his wand a fraction. A shimmer caught his attention, barely visible out of the corner of his eye, and the wand snapped up. He was shocked for a period of two heartbeats and a spell was on his lips when his gaze met Harry Potter's and the memory block fell away.

"Fuck me, that's an unpleasant sensation," he said as Potter's cloak slipped off his bare shoulders. It took Draco a moment to reassess his memories. He scowled suspiciously. "You were thinking about sneaking out and leaving me here with a blocked memory, weren't you, Potter?"

"Yes," Potter admitted bluntly. His eyes slid away from Draco's and a sudden blush darkened his cheeks. Draco suddenly knew why he had wanted to bolt.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I gave my word. The day that stops meaning something is the day I turn myself over to Voldemort."

"Is that the only reason?" Draco drawled. Potter looked away again and his throat moved slightly as he swallowed.

"No. I stayed because I owe you. Without you, I'd be gasping my last breath right now, or begging for death. I won't forget that."

Draco would never have imagined he would hear those words from the Chosen One. He could hardly assimilate them now. He felt a thrill that had little to do with the words, and far more with the way Potter toyed nervously with the fold of cloak in his hands, and the way his cheeks were still sweetly pink. Potter would stalk out there and face down Voldemort, if necessary, with scarcely a flinch, but he was dead petrified to be in here now, with Draco. It was a heady sensation.

Draco threw several strong Locking Charms at the door and then strode forwards, tucking his wand into a pocket and dropping the wine bottle onto the tiny washstand next to Potter. He put his hands on either side of Potter's face and watched his eyes widen in alarm. Potter couldn't speak, however, because Draco's lips locked onto his. For all of his torment of Potter in the dungeon, Draco had not kissed him. He made up for that oversight now.

Draco plundered Potter's mouth. He would have wagered his fortune that Potter had never been well and truly kissed before. Draco's tongue forced past lips and teeth to twist with Harry's. He lapped at the sensitive places in Potter's mouth, earning a gasp of surprise, muffled by Draco's lips.

Draco's hands slipped into Potter's hair and turned his head slightly for better access. Then he stroked, sucked, and nipped at Potter's mouth until both of them could hardly breathe. Potter's hands were clenched in Draco's shirt, one at either side of his waist.

Draco's hands slowly left Potter's hair and slid downwards, over his chest and ribs to enfold Potter's back. He caressed Potter's smooth flesh, glad that he had neglected to retrieve a shirt for him. He gripped Potter tightly for a moment and then manoeuvred him to the bed with a couple of quick steps.

Potter fell back onto the mattress with Draco atop him. The kiss had been broken for only a moment; Draco did not intend to give hima chance to think. He fastened his lips to Potter's again. He did not bother to unbutton his own shirt; instead he tore it open with one swift yank and then made a sound of pure pleasure as his bare skin touched Potter's. To his surprise, Potter was as aroused as Draco, if the hard line beneath his flank was any indication.

Draco shifted slightly and moved his hands to the waistband of Potter's jeans. Potter made a quick, panicked thrash and his hands gripped Draco's wrists to halt the motion. Draco switched tactics. His mouth left Potter's for a moment and he pulled back to look at Potter's face. His glasses were askew, so Draco grabbed the bridge with his teeth and pulled them off with a flexing movement of his neck. Another flick sent them sailing across the pillow.

Potter's eyes were wide and uncertain, but his lips were wet and swollen, slightly parted in unconscious invitation. Draco groaned and nibbled gently at Potter's lips. His fingers moved minutely over Potter's abdomen, not straying far from the top of Potter's jeans. Potter's hands still rested on Draco's wrists, but quiescently, exerting no pressure.

Draco left Potter's mouth and kissed his jaw, sliding his tongue down the soft skin of Potter's throat. He pressed a line of wet kisses over Potter's collarbone and licked the hollow above the bone. He kissed his way downwards and flicked his tongue over one of Potter's nipples, earning a gasp and a nearly suppressed quiver. Draco felt a wicked surge of satisfaction at the discovery that Potter's nipples were extremely sensitive. He sucked hard and Potter's hands left his wrists to clench in Draco's hair.

Freed of restraint, Draco quickly unfastened Potter's jeans and slid them down with a quick thrust of his hands over Potter's hips. He continued to lick at Potter's responsive nipples as he did so, moving from one to the other. Draco had to stop to remove his own trousers, but he did so quickly and then gripped Potter's hips again.

Draco pressed himself upwards and took Potter's mouth once more. Potter whimpered when Draco's naked erection rubbed against his with delicious friction. Draco quickly tore his shirt the rest of the way off, needing to feel all of Potter's skin against his own. He detached his mouth from Potter's for a moment to breathe hotly in his ear.

"You are so fucking hot, Potter," he said. Potter shivered and Draco went on, "You think about Voldemort every time you see your scar, don't you? Well, when I'm done with you, every time you see that scar, every time you look in the mirror, you'll think of _me_ instead."

Draco hand found Potter's hard cock and stroked it experimentally. Potter's hands, still in Draco's hair, twisted almost painfully. He panted as Draco's hand moved rhythmically, but Draco wasn't ready for Potter to get off that easily. He released Potter's cock and slipped his hand downwards, caressing his testicles gently before probing Potter's anus with two fingers. Potter jerked as if electrified; he was instantly tense.

"You know, this will be a lot less painful if you relax, Potter," Draco said dryly.

"Malfoy, you—" Potter began, but his voice broke and he tried again. "Your agreement…"

"Spit it out, Potter."

Potter flushed. "Well, you said 'make love' not…"

"Not fuck you into a bloody pulp?" Draco finished.

Potter's blush darkened and he couldn't meet Draco's eyes. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, Potter, I have no intention of hurting you," Draco said quietly and then smiled. "As long as you relax."

Potter tried, but he was ludicrously tense. Draco knew he'd have the devil's time penetrating him, but he wasn't beaten yet. Draco slid down and took Potter's cock in his mouth. It had softened slightly under Potter's onslaught of terror, but Draco's tongue lapped over the head and dove into the slit at the top several times, which quickly took care of that problem.

Potter arched attractively and Draco's breath caught in his throat. Fuck, Potter really was gorgeous. Draco wordlessly Summoned his wand. He tongue-stroked Potter's shaft twice more and then left it. Potter moaned in frustration. He fingers brushed Draco's temples, still wrapped in Draco's hair. Draco placed the tip of his wand against Potter's anal entrance and whispered a spell. Potter heaved a ragged gasp of surprise, but Draco dropped the wand and quickly inserted a finger, and then two.

Potter made a guttural sound of protest, but Draco was relentless. The spell had relaxed Potter's muscles and lubricated him; Potter was as ready as he would ever be.

Draco removed his fingers and pressed his cock quickly into the vacated opening, nearly moaning in delight at the tight, hot feel of Potter's body. Draco moved slowly and inexorably at first, watching Potter the while. Potter's green eyes were wide and his hands had left Draco's hair to dig painfully his shoulders. Draco rammed his cock home suddenly and had to shut his eyes at the astounding sensation.

Bloody hell, if Potter moved now, Draco would lose it for certain. He took a steadying breath to regain control and then pulled nearly out before thrusting forward again. Potter moved then, arching his back with a ragged intake of breath. Draco repeated the motion.

"Hurt?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Potter muttered through clenched teeth.

"Want me to stop?" Draco murmured and shoved his hips forward in a teasing jab.

"Fuck no." Potter moaned and Draco felt another rush of delight. He began to move in earnest and his thrusts were slower than he would have liked, but Potter was so hot and tight and, God, when he moved his hips like that—Draco struggled to stave off his orgasm. He remembered to grip Potter's erection and rub absently, though he could barely concentrate through the rising tide of passion.

The touch was enough for Potter, who clamped his jaw shut on a scream, which led Draco to wonder what Potter's reaction would be if they were not currently in a castle full of Death Eaters. Potter's violent spasms were too much for Draco, who sank his teeth into Potter's shoulder to suppress his own scream as an incredible climax shook him—for the first time in his life he bloody saw _stars_. The shudders seemed to go on forever until Draco finally collapsed on Potter's chest. He detached his teeth from Potter's shoulder and buried his face in Potter's neck. Potter's arms were wrapped around Draco's back and Draco held him tightly, basking in the afterglow. Draco had always felt lazily content and almost vulnerable after sex. Especially after bloody mind-blowing sex.

Draco noticed he was drawing random, delicate patterns on Potter's ribs and forced himself to stop. He pushed himself up and conjured a warm, wet cloth, which he used to clean them both with gentle strokes.

He vanished the cloth and sprawled next to Potter, placing his arm possessively over his abdomen. Potter watched him through dreamy green eyes. His black hair was more mussed than usual, and several damp tendrils clung to his forehead, nearly obscuring his scar.

"Why?" Potter asked in a curious tone.

"Why what?"

"Why did you… want me?"

Draco thought about the question. There were so many reasons, all of which would be like handing weapons over to the Chosen hero. He settled for his usual sardonic humor.

"Isn't it obvious, Potter? Because you're hot as fuck."

Potter grinned wryly. "So are you," he admitted, amazing Draco, who would never have expected Potter to divulge that on pain of death. Potter reached down and lifted Draco's arm from his waist. The Dark Mark was clearly visible and Potter traced around the edges of the tattoo with a finger.

"Full Death Eater now, yeah?" he asked. Draco said nothing. "You're the only one who could make this look like a fashion statement." Potter touched it suddenly, tensely, as if expecting a jolt. Draco felt him relax slightly when nothing happened and Potter drew over the Dark Mark again with his fingers.

Potter rolled over suddenly and moved downwards, still holding Draco's arm. He leaned his head over the tattoo and pressed his lips against it. Potter traced the design with his tongue, following the snake in a sensual line and sucking lightly on the mouth of the skull. Draco's brows rose in astonishment at the erotic gesture.

Potter raised his head and smiled at Draco with a glint of satisfaction in the emerald eyes. "Now every time you see a Dark Mark, you'll think of me," Potter said roughly.

Draco grinned. "The Dark Lord would be mortified."

A wicked grin curved Potter's lips. "Good."

Draco groaned and impulsively dragged him up for a kiss. Potter did not pull away as their tongues twisted delightfully. Draco nibbled on Potter's lips for a moment before releasing him.

"Can it be my third condition was not as horrifying as expected, Potter?"

Potter blushed profusely, but shook his head with a nervous tug at his hair. "I see now that you were merely distracting me from your second condition. You do realize that now I have to protect you from both sides?"

Draco grinned. "No job is too large for the Chosen One. How did you get yourself captured, anyway?"

Potter scowled. "Blatant stupidity. You haven't eaten, have you?"

"Don't change the subject," Draco said, but he levitated the tray over and set it on the edge of the bed. He buttered a piece of nearly dried bread and topped it with jam before taking a bite.

"All right," Potter said with a sigh. "I was taken in London. I had a meeting at the Ministry of Magic and stormed out… in a rage…"

"Typical Potter behavior, then?" Draco mumbled through another bite.

"…Yeah." Potter reached out and dragged his thumb across Draco's upper lip. "Butter." Draco grinned as Potter sucked on the thumb briefly, but Draco managed not to kiss him again, wanting Potter to continue the tale. "Anyway, I left the Ministry in a huff and walked straight into a band of Death Eaters."

"Sent by my father, no doubt."

"Lucius still has connections at the Ministry, apparently."

"I think he has connections everywhere. Your little Gryffindor shadows are likely frantic."

"I'm surprised Hermione hasn't located me by now."

"I'm surprised she hasn't permanently attached a Locator Spell to you."

Potter blinked at him. "Is there such a thing?"

"Do you want me to put one on you?" Draco offered.

"You sound far too enthusiastic. It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Barely at all," Draco said with a laugh. He Summoned the bottle and spelled out the cork. "Wine?"

Potter shook his head and Draco poured a glass. "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Plebian. This is one grade above swill, anyway." Draco whisked the bottle back to the table. He took a sip and grimaced. "Here, try it." He took another mouthful, leaned forward, and deposited it into Potter's mouth with another kiss.

Potter nearly choked for a moment and coughed after swallowing. "You're right. Horrid. What do you think Voldemort will do… if I manage to escape?"

"Still don't trust me?" Draco asked and topped another bit of bread with Havarti and proscuitto. He took another bite, fascinated with the way Potter watched him eat. Draco licked his lower lip slowly and Potter flushed and looked away.

"What's in it for you, Malfoy? If you take me out there right now, you'll be a Death Eater hero."

"I think I'd prefer to have the Chosen One sworn to protect me. My father will save me from the Death Eaters, if necessary, and you will save me from the Order of the Phoenix. Frankly, I don't see a downside." Draco grinned wickedly. "And the fringe benefits are astounding."

Potter's blush deepened. Draco laughed and sucked on his fingers sensually.

"The way you eat… it's obscene." Potter said.

"What do you mean?"

"You practically make love to your food. I can't believe I never noticed before."

"You're blushing, Potter. Are you certain you never noticed before? I thought I saw you watching me during meals at Hogwarts."

"If I did, I would never admit it."

Draco chuckled. "You want me again, don't you, Potter?"

Potter sighed heavily and threw his arm around Draco's neck to drag him into a kiss. Draco decided the food could wait a while. He removed the tray and happily took Harry Potter back to Dracotopia.

Later, spent once more, Draco wrapped himself around Potter's back and pulled him close. He pressed a kiss into Potter's neck.

"Go to sleep, Golden Boy. I'll wake you when it gets dark."

Though Potter professed not to trust Draco, he dropped off to sleep with astounding swiftness.

~*~

Draco led Potter through the darkness to the tallest parapet still standing. Potter wore his invisibility cloak and Draco carried a broom he'd stolen from a random Death Eater. Voldemort had thankfully departed earlier and security was fairly lax, even considering Potter's "escape" and the fact that they all half-expected an attack by the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry. Draco and Potter had easily avoided Goyle, who was on bored guard duty, and climbed the treacherous steps to a vantage overlooking the barren Scottish countryside.

"You'll be all right without a wand?" Draco asked quietly, knowing Potter stood beside him, though unseen.

"I'm just glad to have a broom," Potter replied. "Maybe you can keep your eyes open for a chance to get my wand back."

Draco knew the exact whereabouts of Potter's wand: locked in an iron box in his father's room. If it disappeared, there would be no doubt a Death Eater had turned traitor. Potter would just have to acquire a new wand.

"If I did that, you would owe me additional favors," Draco said with a leer.

Potter laughed. "It's nice to know you are still essentially evil."

"You guessed it, Gryffindor."

Draco's shirt was suddenly grabbed and he was pulled forwards into a searing kiss. Draco devoured Potter, knowing it could be goodbye forever if luck frowned upon them. They were both panting a bit when they broke apart.

"Thank you. For everything," Potter said seriously. "I won't forget it."

"Less talk, more flight, Potter," Draco said roughly. The broom disappeared, except for the front section that jutted out from the cloak. It rose into the air and hovered for a moment.

"One more thing, Malfoy," Potter's voice called as the bit of broomstick faded into the darkness. Draco paused. " _Blatch_."

Draco suddenly wondered what the hell he was doing on the parapet in the dark. Sleepwalking? To hell with that—he would lock himself in his room first. As he made his way down the crumbling steps, Draco remembered nothing at all about Harry Potter, except that he had escaped that morning under unusual circumstances.

~TBC~


End file.
